


Dress for Success

by Doctorinblue



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crossdressing, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/pseuds/Doctorinblue
Summary: After a lice outbreak, there is only one solution.





	Dress for Success

The itching pulled Hawkeye from the first dreamless sleep he'd found in a week.

Anything capable, or stupid enough, to dare such a feat after he'd put in a double shift in the OR deserved a special award. Or a swift death. He shoved his hands beneath the blankets, desperate to ease the burning agony that covered every inch of covered skin. He busied one hand at his chest, the other worked a spot on his thigh, while he squirmed his back into the cot. It rattled with the motion, the sounds of soft grunts and squeaky legs filled the tent, but Hawkeye couldn't begin to stop now that he'd found a fraction of relief.

The madness had been doubling by the day, the camp growing redder and more irritable with each passing hour. Hawkeye scratched and wiggled in the morning light, wondering if he'd get Klinger's section 8 if he gathered every inch of fabric in the camp and created a great lice bonfire. He'd be a hero, laughing and naked when they came to cart him off. Tempting. Instead, he yanked his shirt off and clawed at the bare skin in a way no self-respecting doctor would ever allow. Luckily he'd left his self-respect back in the States. 

"It won't help," BJ said, sitting up and throwing back his covers.

Bare skin became visible, and it only took Hawkeye a moment to realize that BJ had already tried the clothes removal trick. He sat there stark naked, one hand covering his lap, while the other scratched across great expanses of skin. Hawkeye leaned across the gap, his already flimsy mouth filter bending right along with him when Frank stumbled in like a human bucket of ice. Barely ducking the boot kicked in his direction, he glared over at Frank as he fumbled with his belt. 

"We're infested," Frank said as his pants hit the dirt.

"Oh, is that what this is, Frank?" Hawkeye asked, just resisting the urge to wiggle out the remainder of his clothes. Three naked men sounded like the beginning of a great story, but less so when one of those men also happened to be a ferret face. "Did you hear that, Beej? Mystery solved."

"What a relief," BJ muttered, moving across the tent, flopping down beside Hawkeye. "What are we going to do?"

"It's these living conditions," Frank said, looking over at them. "Lice would never do this in the States."

"These Korean lice have no respect, Frank," Hawkeye said, pushing BJ's hand away from his chest. "Don't scratch."

BJ reluctantly dropped his hand back to his lap, as the tent door flew open again. Radar blocked the doorway, clad in only his underwear, a clipboard alternating between covering his chest and lap. 

"Radar?" BJ asked. 

"The clothes, sir- uh- sirs," he said, holding out the clipboard. 

Hawkeye snatched it from his hand, flipping through the pages with BJ's head pressed against his shoulder. It turned out he wouldn't be getting that section 8 after all, as the army shared his bonfire idea. They always got all the credit. 

"Clothes burning at noon, Beej," Hawkeye said, tossing the clipboard at Radar. 

He caught it, eyes on the ceiling, avoiding the way Frank's fingers were dancing in his waistband. 

"It's a date," BJ said, standing up again. "When do we get new supplies, Radar? "

"It's not just us, sir-" Radar started, shifting his weight.

"When, Radar?" Hawkeye asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"They're ordered, sir," he said. "A few days out. Maybe a week."

Hawkeye blinked, scratched at his own neck before BJ caught his fingers.

"A few days-" Hawkeye repeated. 

"Maybe a week."

"Right, how could I forget? What are we going to do in the meantime? Operate in the nude?"

"Uh...no, sir," Radar said. "Colonel Potter is calling around. "

Hawkeye had a horrible flash of an OR full of nude personnel. 

"Klinger," he muttered, yanking his robe off the back of his chair and sliding it on. He moved to the door as Radar stepped to the side. 

"Klinger?" BJ repeated, slipped out past Radar.

BJ followed him into the showers, climbed into the other stall and stayed silent while Hawkeye scrubbed at his skin. Hawkeye had the distinct feeling that BJ was trying to offer him some sort of moral support while he waded into the deep end without his floaties.

After another few minutes, when Hawkeye felt certain any lice couldn't be hiding in a nook or cranny, he flipped the water off. 

BJ blew out a mouthful of water, turned off his own stream. 

"Hawk?" he said, turning to face him. "Want to talk about it?"

Hawkeye nearly rolled his eyes. 

"Klinger has clothes, Beej," Hawkeye said. "Klinger never itches, does he? Always takes special care of his clothes."

BJ blinked. In just a minute he would see the brilliance of Hawkeye's plan. They'd be the first showered and the first two to work over Klinger's rack. If Hawkeye had to wear a dress, he at least wanted first pick.

"Klinger has clothes," BJ repeated. "Dresses, Hawk. Klinger has dresses."

Hawkeye stepped out, wrapped up in the robe without pausing to dry. BJ hurried out.

"You can't be serious," BJ said, sheet dragging across the ground, bare feet turning his steps to mush.

Hawkeye stopped at Klinger's tent, pulled the door opened and stepped in. Dresses lined the rack, and it might not be the first or even second time he'd worn a one but the thought of several days of it did make him pause. No, he couldn't go back. He couldn't put on scrubs and scratch his way to the skin beneath. Everything had to go, but not these dresses.

Klinger sat up, blinking in his direction, covers pulled up over his chest to protect his modesty. 

"Sir?"

"We need the dresses, Klinger."  
\----  
By noon most of the camp had visited Klinger, outside of a few hold-outs. (The loudest being Frank as usual). Klinger had pulled through, producing dresses out of what seemed to be thin air for anyone who darkened his door.  
Hawkeye sipped his coffee, straps tight against his shoulders. Radar sat opposite, red dress tight and too long and Hawkeye never imagined he'd see so much of so many in the camp. He loved it. Silently. Frank had already taken to muttering 'perverts' at every opportunity, and one more might just end him up in that last leopard print no one had dared to wear but Klinger. 

BJ stood, the too short skirt riding up his thighs, the blouse refusing to cover that last couple of bare inches between navel and hips.

"We're going to miss the clothes burning," Bj said, tugging at the blouse. It sprung back up.

"A date's a date," Hawkeye agreed, throwing back the last of his coffee and standing up with a stretch.

Everything felt so breezy below the waist. Too breezy, actually. Several heads had turned towards him, and BJ cleared his throat. Hawkeye reached down, tugged the hem to a more respectable level and followed BJ out of the tent. His low heels poked into the dirt with each step, and he wondered how Klinger managed to carry himself with such dignity.

Hawkeye did feel pretty, though. The sequins of his dark dress reflecting the sun. He caught BJ's arm as BJ wobbled, his heels shifting him up a few inches taller, pulling at his ankles in ways he clearly wasn't used to.  
At least half the camp had gathered around the pile of clothes, and blankets, and other varieties of linen.

Colonel Potter stood beside the pile, knobby knees visible beneath the blue skirt he'd chosen. He lit the fire, and Hawkeye cheered, and then promptly wandered away before the smell could soak into Klinger's dress.  
He'd been given a very strict set of rules, a ruin and you buy it sort of deal. Though....he did enjoy the way the dress made him feel...


End file.
